


Pretty Women

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Humor, Series: Leprecaun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-04-16
Updated: 1999-04-16
Packaged: 2018-11-10 14:17:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11128575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: This story is a sequel to The Spirits Are Willing .





	Pretty Women

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
Pretty Women

# PRETTY WOMEN

(Standard, all-purpose disclaimer) All pre-existing characters are the property of the creators and producers of "Due South." No copyright infringement is intended. All new characters and situations are the sole property and responsibility of the author. Comments will be gratefully accepted. Flames will graded for spelling, grammar, and logical cohesiveness... and then cruelly laughed at. 

**MEMO FROM BUFFY** 

You all know the drill by now. This is a sequel to (flipping through Katrina's disks -- the dear is *so* organized!) "Changing Your Demeanor," "Manny Came, Too," and "The Spirits Are Willing," all of which are resting comfortably at Seah's DS Archive. If you haven't read the others, you might want to do that first. This series is turning into a full-fledged Alternative Universe, it seems, and this might not be the best point to jump into things... 

Rated, oh, let's call it PG-ish. But then there's this one naiad... well, Huey and the naiad never *actually*... yeah, let's leave it at PG. 

# PRETTY WOMEN

by Buffy 

"Vecchio! In my office, *now*!" Lieutenant Welsh stood in his doorway, fuming. 

Ray straightened up from the computer station. "Yes, sir. I'll be right there." He maintained his erect posture until the door of the lieutenant's office was forcefully closed. 

Skippy looked over his bifocals at Ray. Peering back into the computer monitor, the leprechaun said, "Looks like ye're in a bit of trouble, laddie. What do ye suppose the problem is?" 

"Oh, I... think I have a pretty good idea what the problem is. Think you've got a handle on this computer thing? I really can't wait until Elaine gets back from lunch." Ray leaned on the back of Skippy's chair. 

The leprechaun's stubby fingers danced across the keyboard. "Sure, and a child could figure this out. Ye want any license plates that contain these two numbers here, and it should match a late-model Ford. I'll have this done for ye in a trice." 

"Thanks, Skippy. I owe ya." 

Skippy hit a few keys. "Aye, laddie, ye do. That's why ye're buying the beer tonight -- " 

"Vecchio... get in here, NOW!" Welsh's office door slammed again. 

The leprechaun looked up at Ray mildly. "Ye'd best be gettin' in there. Poor man's going to be giving himself a nasty headache with all that shouting." 

"You don't know the half of it -- just leave the printout on my desk when you're done, okay? Thanks." Ray walked over to Lt. Welsh's office just as his superior officer was opening the door for the third time. "You wanted to see me, sir?" 

Wordlessly, Welsh held the door open until Ray had entered. Once the detective was inside the office, Welsh walked over to his desk. "Sit, Vecchio." 

"Yes, sir." Ray sat. 

Welsh stared at Ray for several long seconds. Then he pointed in the direction of the squad room. "Who is that?" 

Ray hesitated. "Who is *who*, sir?" Welsh's face reddened dangerously, and Ray hurried on. "Oh, you mean by the computer? That's just Skippy, sir." 

"Just Skippy," Welsh repeated. 

"Yes, sir." 

Welsh nodded. "And Just Skippy would be a... " 

"A leprechaun, sir," Ray supplied helpfully. 

Staring at his desktop, Welsh said, "And does... *Skippy* realize that it hasn't been St. Patrick's Day for a couple months now?" 

"Oh, yeah, he realizes that. They all do. It's just that -- well, they started hanging out with Fraser, and they kinda didn't wanna leave Chicago. I think we're stuck with them." 

"Fraser." Welsh sighed mournfully. "It always comes back to Big Red, doesn't it?" 

"It seems that way, yes, sir." Ray's tone was sympathetic. "And then all the nymphs decided that *they* wanted to stay -- " Ray closed his mouth with an audible snap, but it was too late. 

Welsh glared at the detective. "Thank you for reminding me. That was another little matter that I wanted to discuss with you. You have to tell your ladyfriends to stop hanging around the precinct, Vecchio." 

"Ah." Ray scratched the tip of his nose. "That's not gonna be easy." 

Ignoring him, Welsh stood and started pacing. "You think it's easy to explain to the commissioner *why* my precinct has the highest nymph population in Chicago? It's bad enough that they're using your desk as their home away from home. But ever since your sister took them shopping...." 

Ray interrupted. "Actually, sir, I *have* managed to convince them that they shouldn't wear fishnet stockings or leather Merry Widows until after dark." 

"Oh. Well, that's something, I suppose...." Welsh trailed off. "And now I think Huey is getting interested in a naiad." 

"Really?" Ray cocked his head, interested. "Which one?" 

Welsh shrugged. "I don't know. Tall girl, long black hair, always leaves wet footprints wherever she goes... Darla? Dearie?" 

Ray stared at Welsh. Finally he managed to choke out, "The 

name wouldn't be 'Darion', would it, sir?" 

"Yeah, I think that was it. Strange name for a naiad, but what the hell do I know about -- what's so funny?" Welsh looked at his detective suspiciously, but Ray just stared at the floor in front of him, hand pressed to his mouth, shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter. "Would you care to share the joke, Detective Vecchio?" 

With considerable effort, Ray managed to control himself. "Ah... no. No, sir." 

"I see." Someone rapped lightly on the door, and Welsh looked up. "Come in." 

The door opened, and two pairs of eyes -- one pair violet, the other golden -- peeked around the corner. 

"Ooooh, Ray, you look so handsome in that suit! Doesn't he look nice, Lalage?" 

"Hello, Ray! We *waited* and *waited* out by your desk, but Skippy said you were in here having a little talk with that *sweet* Lieutenant Welsh. Oh, there you are!" The nymph opened the door a little wider. "Look, Gia, Lieutenant Welsh is right here!" 

Ray turned around and grinned. "Hey, girls." 

The nymphs giggled. Slipping around the door and shedding pink rose petals in her wake, Gia the dryad skipped inside. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed Welsh on his chin. She turned to Lalage. "Should I go and get her?" 

"Oh, yes!" The sylph flew into the room and came to rest neatly in Ray's lap. As Gia ran out, Lalage tucked her head into the curve of Ray's shoulder and peered up at him. "I've had *ever* such a lovely day, darling. Shall we go on another picnic this afternoon? Gia always has so much fun on picnics." 

Ray tried to shift Lalage into a less intimate position. He eyed Welsh uneasily. "Actually, that's something we should probably discuss -- " 

"All right." Lalage beamed up at him. "We could go waterskiing instead if you'd like that better." 

"Well, cara, what I'm trying to say is that it might be a good idea if you and Gia could be a little more... well, *professional* when you come to see me here." 

Lalage bounced off Ray's lap. Dancing around the office excitedly, she said, "Darling Ray, that's *just* what we wanted to discuss with you! Gia and I are learning all kinds of police thingies so we can help you! We even watched 'Starsky and Hutch'! Watch this!" Grabbing a half-eaten submarine sandwich off the lieutenant's desk, she held it in both hands, spread her legs and pointed it directly at Welsh's midsection. Lowering her musical voice, she furrowed her brow. "Drop it, dustball!" Handing Welsh the sandwich, she hopped back onto Ray's lap. "How was that? Oooh, I sounded all policey -- I almost scared myself!" 

Welsh stared at the sandwich and put it back on his desk. 

"Uhhh, yeah." Ray carefully avoided looking at Welsh. "But what I meant was --" 

The door opened, and Gia came back in, leading another nymph by the hand. "Here we are! Eudoxia, this is that adorable man we were telling you about. This is Eudoxia -- she's a dryad just like me. Now you two get acquainted -- Lalage and I are going to go and have some fun with Ray!" Prancing over to the chair, she pulled Ray and Lalage to their feet. As she herded them out of the office, she said, "I saw Darion as I was coming in. Do you think we ought to invite him and that nice Huey person on the picnic with us?" 

Welsh's jaw dropped. "Darion is a him?" 

Lalage turned back. She smiled brightly at the flabbergasted lieutenant as Ray started fighting back laughter. "Oh, yes. But he's a naiad, really. He does a much better breast stroke than the others, in fact. I think it's because he hasn't got any -- " 

"Does Huey know about this?" Welsh demanded. 

"About the breast stroke?" Gia and Lalage looked at each other blankly. "I'm not sure. Do you know if they've ever gone swimming, Gia?" 

"I don't know. But there's a lovely pond in Grant Park...." The door closed behind them. 

"Oh, God." Welsh started to turn back to his desk, but found his route blocked by the forgotten nymph. "Oh, *God*." 

Peering up through impossibly thick pale gold eyelashes, the dryad shyly extended a bouquet of yellow daisies. "I'm Eudoxia, and I made these for you. Do you like them?" Dropping her gaze, she studied the tips of her tiny pink toes. 

Welsh gingerly took the proferred flowers. "I don't -- " Eudoxia peeked up at him again. Her tiny pink lips started to quiver. Welsh took a deep breath. "I don't think I've ever seen nicer flowers." 

Slowly raising her head, Eudoxia smiled. "Thank you, Lieutenant." 

Sighing, Welsh stared around his office helplessly. "Do you have a vase or something? I could always get a glass from the cafeteria, I guess...." 

Eudoxia shook her head solemly. "They won't wilt. Not unless I want them to. Lieutenant... may I ask you a question?" 

"Yeah, why not?" Welsh laid the daisies on his desk, next to his sandwich. 

"Do you have a name? I mean a *real* name. I like Welsh, and I 

like Lieutenant, and I even like the way they sound together, but I think your *real* name must be even nicer." 

"A real name." Welsh took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Call me Harding." 

"Oh." Eudoxia's smile widened. "Thank you." 

Welsh looked down at her nervously. "Now can I ask you a question?" 

Eudoxia blinked slowly. "Of course you can... Harding." 

"...You're not a him, are you?" 

Katrina Bowen~~~~~kbowen@willowtree.com~~~~~buffy@jumpgate.net~~~~~ 

It's lovely to know the world can't interfere with the inside of your head. --Frank McCourt, _Angela's Ashes_ 


End file.
